The Fine Line
by CapoDiTazz
Summary: LA.-Drugs.Alcohol.Gangs.Sex. When innocent Spencer moves here shes about to have everything she knows questioned. Then theres Ashley, native to LA and gang leader with a big rep. Will Spencer do a 360 and become a badass or help Ashley out of her ganglife
1. Chapter 1

It was almost completely dark out save for the dimmed street lamps and blinking store lights. Most normal people might be wondering what a 17 year old girl was doing outside at 3: 22 in the morning, in the middle of the slums, wearing only a light sweatshirt and tight low riding jeans. Well that's simple. I have no fucking clue.

The last thing I can remember was being at some random party, drinking, smoking, drinking, hooking up with some random person, smoking, and that's about it… Oh and somewhere in between all of that, having a good fuck. I just woke up about 10 minutes ago, slumped against the side of a rundown building which smelled like piss.

So here I am walking in the general direction of, Rick's convenience store open 24/7, well that was what the sign was supposed to say. The flickering florescent green sign above the store was hardly any help since half the blubs were out, or smashed into a million shards of glass. Needless to say it wasn't so much of a convenience store, but more of a cheep liquor, cigarette, and porn shop.

I continue to walk towards the store. Ok that was a lie. I swayed toward the door stumbling on non-existing objects and having drums pounding in my head. By the time I got to the door I felt ready to pass out again but instead I used all my strength to open the door and walk up the steps. I squinted my eyes, letting them adjust to the brightness of the room.

Once I had recovered from my temporary blindness, I looked around the small store. To my left was the Indian dude who worked the counter, I never knew how they managed to sit there. All day. Doing nothing. But then again, that sounds pretty similar to what I do in my spare time.

Moving on. To my right was a shit load of beer. I unwillingly, decided against my better judgment and just passed by the beer and grabbed a bottle of water, some chips, and oh what's that... the new playboy magazine.

I slowly made my way to the counter and laid the items out. The turban headed dude rang all my items up, not evening bothering with IDing for the porn. I paid for it with the 7 bucks that I had stuffed into my pocket.

I must have sat on the steps outside the store for a least half an hour before a crappy, chipped blue van came and stopped in front of me. I jumped up instantly, not a smart idea since my head was still throbbing but I was FREEZING. I run/ stumble over to the passenger seat and swing the door open. The torn up leather seats looked so comfortable right now that I jump onto it and the warm air from the heater begins to spread warmth to my body. I look over to the driver seat and grin. The young black man with a grey bandana grins back at me.

"Thanks Boz, it only took you like 5 hours to get down 2 blocks," I say with a small smirk. "Hey, I got here didn't I?" he says as he begins to drive. "Yeah well, next time make it snappy, I was freezing my ass crack off out there," I say sleepily.

Lazy, I reached into the glove compartment which is filled with tissues, pens, condoms, and a thin sheet of grey cloth. I grab the cloth and systematically tie it to my head, despite my sleepy, dunk state. I'm pretty sure Boz said something else but I was already asleep.

I started this story about a year ago, 9-20-07 but only updated once. After nearly a year, I've decided to tweak the first 2 chapters and I will hopefully continue writing more this time.


	2. Chapter 2

On a bright, sunny, day, a family of five stood together in front of an average house, in LA. Any LA native could tell that these people where not from around here. First, they looked like a friggen hallmark card. They all wore 'proper', non-revealing clothing as well as jumbo crosses on their neck. Not at all like the other dysfunctional LA 'families'. A second, hint would have to be the huge moving truck that was parked outside the driveway.

Zooming in on said perfect family, one would notice that the husband and wife had two, no wait three teens. One of the teens, stuck out from the rest of the crowd, despite him wearing a white polo and some loose fitting jean. He was black. Ah ok that's better, maybe not the 'picture perfect' family. Much more L.A… maybe this family would have a chance at fitting in.

The boy held at least three books that a normal person wouldn't consider 'pleasurable reading', and yet you could tell he was the son because of the way the mother had her arm on his shoulder protectively…Oh maybe I forgot to mention. The rest of the family is white.

The mother stood proud with a humongous grin. It was clear see was a proper, semi strict, yet all around loving mom. By the way she stood grinning like a cherish cat, you could tell it was her idea to move. Under her other arm (the one not holding her adoptive son) stood another son.

A blind man could see that the second son was clearly the mother's favorite. He was tall, handsome, and athletic. He wore basketball shorts and an oversized jersey indicating he was a major jock and loved to be the center of attention. His blonde hair and blue eyes were nearly identical to his sister standing near him.

The girl was huddled under her dad's arm and with a frown plastered to her pretty face. You could tell she was shy and that moving to LA wasn't her dream of a perfect summer/life. By the looks of it she seemed like a very soft spoken person who had maybe three best friends back home but that was the extent of her circle friends.

"Well, it seems like the Carlin family is finally in LA," my dad said with a small grin. The rest of my family gave a little laugh and began to make their way to the door. My idiot, athletic brother sprinted ahead eager to be the first to see the inside of the house and choose the largest room for himself. "Whoa slow down Glen, the door isn't even unlocked yet," my lovable other brother said, laughing. Glen bounced on the balls of his feet, somewhat patiently as he waited for my mom to hurry and unlock the door.

My mother took forever to put the bronze key inside the door and twist it. It was as if she was savoring this stupid moment. I looked up at the rest of my family. They're all standing with anticipation, until finally the door was flung open.

As soon as the door opened my brothers, Glen and Clay, ran through the door. My parents didn't run but you could tell that they wanted to chase after my brothers and explore the house. I waited for them to file in. I stood alone on the stoop debating whether I wanted to go in. Maybe it wasn't too late to close my eyes, tap my Nikes, and pray to go back to Ohio.

"Spencer, sweetheart, come on in!" my mother's voice yelled out. Oh well there goes that plan. I grab my backpack and take a deep breath and I step over the threshold and into my new house.

'Knock, Knock, Knock'

Huh. I look over at my door and the annoying sound of someone banging on it like the place was one fire. Not that I'd be surprised. Maybe if I don't make any noise they'll just go away and think I'm not here and then I can continue blissfully sleeping of this horrendous hangover. Yeah that sounds good.

"Hey, you there? Can I come in? I need to talk to you? Hey, you ther…"

I slam my fucking door open, which hits the annoy person who wouldn't leave me the fuck alone in the head. "Okay! WHAT. IS. IT? Honestly, a person can't get a damn few hours asleep around this SHITHOLE, without being bothered by annoying fuckfaces like you." I snap angrily and hung over.

Looking around for a sec, I realize that the door hit him so hard he was sit against the wall opposite my door and had his hands covering his head with his eyes screwed shut. Apparently I wasn't the only one hung over… not that I actually care that I hit him. "Will you speak up? You're wasting my valuable fucking time sitting on the floor doing nothing, AFTER you have just woken me up!" he looked scarred, fucking newbie.

"S-sorry ma'am, I uh um just wanted to know if I mean uhhh…" with every word he spoke and every time he stuttered I intensified my glare. He was standing but he looked like he was going to faint from fear. I think he actually might have wet himself a little bit.

He looks up at me, and we just stand in silence for about 10 seconds. He is about to try and speak again. WHACK! I swing my door open as fast as humanly possible and it nails him hard…everywhere.

"Let that be a fucking lesson to you…" I growl out but then realize he's knocked out. I think he's unconscious, maybe dead. Oops, oh well. I stalk back in to my room and look around. It's a fucking mess. My small twin sized bed is pushed into the corner of the room with my sheets in a bunch. Next to my bed is a 3-draw dresser. The draws are open and clothes are seeping out. In the corner near the door is a small desk with a mini fridge underneath. On top of the desk are a variety of drugs, cigarettes, and empty beer cans. The room is so small you could only fit two people in here comfortably.

I walk over to my dresser and pull out a pair of ripped jeans, a black wife beater, and my grey bandanna. After I changed, I quickly brush my hair and slam my door open. This once again hits the guy's body. I lock and close my door and turn to walk down the hallway. Half way down the hall, I turn back around. I walk over to the guy's body and deliver a swift kick in the ribs. I hear him groan in pain. Music to my ears. I bend down and grab his wallet. I tuck the wallet and bandana in my back pocket and leave while whistling a silly tune.


End file.
